


Voodoo Doll

by LookingForSophie



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForSophie/pseuds/LookingForSophie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabell has not had an easy life to say the least. With a borderline abusive mother, a father who is never there and four foster siblings to take care of the last thing she needs in her life is someone to make her life at school hell too.</p><p> </p><p>Enter Michael Clifford the schools resident wannabe bad boy. He seems to find joy in making her life hell, and makes no secret of his dislike towards her.</p><p> </p><p>Then you have Mrs Richens, a meddling English Literature teacher who wants to make Michael see just how amazing Annabell really is, and to do so she forces them to work together on an English project.</p><p> </p><p>Now they have no choice but to spend time together. Will they learn to understand each other, or will they continue on their path?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

“Would you stop it?” I finally shouted causing Mr Goold to stop what he was doing and shout at me. I ignored him and turned to face the boy sat behind me. Michael Clifford had sat behind me in Maths and English for the past four years, and every lesson without fail he would throw things at the back of my head, and until now I’d ignored it. My mother had always taught me that if I ignored him he’d eventually get bored and leave me alone, but I’d finally had enough. 

“Whoa, it speaks." he chuckled, earning an approving laugh from his friends. I rolled my eyes, turning to face the front of class. Mr Goold had gone back to quadratic equations, something that I could not wrap my head around for the life of me, and I couldn’t help but think that Michael had something to do with it. 

I finally thought he’d stopped, but ten minutes before the bell rang, I felt something hit the back of my head. Ignoring it, I sighed, letting my shoulders slump forward as I tried to hold back the tears. I didn’t know why I was so emotional today. Normally I ignored him with no problem, today was different. I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chose me to torment for all these years? Had I done something to him that I wasn’t aware of? I couldn’t think of anything that would mean I’d deserve this treatment. 

The bell finally rang signalling the end of class, but unfortunately not the end of the day. I slunk out of class, making it halfway down the corridor before I heard his voice echoing after me. “See you in English.” The smirk was evident in his voice, and before I even had time to process what was happening my feet were picking up their pace and I was running for the bathroom, tears threatening to fall any second. 

I slammed the door to the stall, collapsing on the floor, finally letting the tears flow. I felt my whole body shake as I sobbed horribly. I tried desperately to calm down, but nothing was working and it only made me shake harder. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know my make up was a mess and my nose was dripping. There wasn’t going to be any way of me covering up that I’d spent the last fifteen minutes sobbing in the girls toilets. 

I tried to think about this logically; he’d spent four years tormenting me, why was it getting to me today? Was it just because I’d finally snapped? Was it coming up to that time of the month? Was I just in a bad mood already? I sighed, the tears finally calming down to a trickle. 

“Annabell?” A voice came from outside the stall, it was soft and sympathetic and I almost didn’t recognise it. 

“Mrs Richens?” I replied, my voice foggy from the fact I’d been crying and my nose was blocked. I scrambled up from the floor, pulling the door open to come face to face with my English teacher. She was tall and blonde and leggy and every mans dream. Every girl wanted to be her, or be her best friend, and in my best friend’s case; on her. 

“Are you okay?” she asked uncertainly. She’d never made a secret of the fact she wasn’t good with crying and it was painstakingly obvious from the way she patted my shoulder, whilst looking at me and almost asking me if this was the right thing to do. I couldn’t help but let out a strangled laugh. Almost setting me off crying again.

“I’m fine!” I breathed, almost no sound came out. 

She looked at me, unsure if she should press it. “Is this because of Michael, or is it something more serious?” she asked. 

“Why would it be because of Michael?” I asked, walking over to the sink and running the cold water to splash over my face. I was right; my face was a mess and there was no way I was going to be able to fix my make-up. Instead I grabbed some tissue and began to remove it from my face. 

“Welly just told me what happened in Maths." she sighed, leaning against the counter next to me. “If I were you I’d have smacked him a long time ago, though if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it!" she chuckled. 

“I just thought ignoring him would make him leave me alone, and for four years it’s what I’ve done, but it just finally got to me, and I thought maybe if I snap at him he’ll get that it pisses me off and leave me alone.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. 

“Maybe he likes you." she chuckled, causing me to scoff. 

“We’re not in primary school. Boys don’t hit girls when they like them anymore.” 

“They do if their name’s Michael Clifford and they’re as emotionally challenged as he is.” she blurted, realising what she said. “Ignore that. That was mean." she shook her head. Sometimes I wondered if she had a filter. It was a good job she only taught the older kids. 

“Yeah...I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything.” I laughed. She really was my favourite teacher. 

“You’re not going to go to History are you?” 

“I wasn’t really planning on.” I admitted sheepishly. 

“You can come and sit in my room if you’d prefer. I sent my class off to the library to do research.” Did I mention she was my favourite teacher? I nodded, before grabbing my bag to follow her out of the poorly lit girls bathroom. 

 

I spent the rest of that period lounging around in the back of her class room, my back pressed to the radiator as I tried not to fall asleep. I had her next which meant I’d have to see Michael again and my stomach dropped at the thought of it. 

Truth be told I had no idea why he was so mean to me. Michael had arrived at the beginning of year nine. He’d transferred from Australia, and had instantly fallen in with Ashton the other Australian in the year above. Since then Calum and Luke had arrived. I found it odd how they had all instantly gravitated towards each other, and I almost thought it was slightly racist? Country-sit? They spent all of their time together. It wasn’t like they excluded people, but they were all incredibly close and I think people found them intimidating. Well, guys did. The girls seemed to have a serious thing for them and as far as Luke, Ashton and Calum went I could understand it but when it came to Michael, I just didn’t get it. He barely spoke and when he did it was to insult someone or a teacher. Granted he had good taste in music, but at the end of the day it didn’t excuse him from treating me and everyone else like shit. 

I pulled out my phone to find a text from Welly, she was my best friend...the one who had the crush on Mrs Richens. Not that I blamed her, I would too if I were interested in women. Michael is an arse just ignore him chicken xx

Faggot, do you just find any excuse you can to come and talk to Richens, including my misfortunes? :P 

I replied. I’d started calling her Faggot a few years ago when we’d first become friends. It was a term of endearment; I swear, but after about a year of us being friends she finally admitted to me that she was actually gay and I’d freaked out, apologising non stop. She’d laughed at me and told me I was being stupid that she liked the nickname. I didn’t believe her to start with but she’d continued to reassure me that it was okay. 

Well, you know me ;) I mean could she get any hotter? Is it weird that I am in love with our English teacher? 

I laughed and chose to ignore her text. She knew what I thought about it all. I looked up at the clock hanging on the wall above the desk. Ten minutes until break time was over and English started. I hadn’t even noticed I’d missed the first five minutes of break. The bell in here was temperamental at best, and I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even thought to look at my phone. 

“If he’s that much of an issue I can move him you know.” Miss offered, looking at me skeptically. She watched as I checked my nails and stared off into space, she was evidently worried. 

“What? And cause more of an issue? No, I’ll be fine. I was just being an emotional fool.” I smiled. I had no idea why I’d let him get to me. It was so unlike me, but I realised I was making a deal over nothing and dropped it. People got emotional sometimes. 

The bell finally rang, but I knew he wouldn’t walk through the door for at least another ten minutes. He was always late. I took a seat in my spot to the left of the class room, leaning my head against the cool wall. 

“Hey, miss.” I was snapped from my thoughts when I realised that the first person to walk through the door was not Catherine or George, but Michael. I tried to make it look like I hadn’t noticed, but he shot me a look that let me know he’d seen. There was something quieter about him and I couldn’t quite work out what it was, but he wasn’t walking with as much confidence, he dragged his feet and his shoulders sagged forward slightly. Something most people probably wouldn’t even notice, but I’d learnt that the way he walked dictated how he was going to treat me. This, however, I’d never seen. There was something pathetic about it, and I almost felt bad for him, but then I remembered he’d made me cry in the bathroom only this morning and any sympathy I had for him dissipated. 

“Hello, Michael.” she replied, her voice curt. This seemed to physically knock the air out of him as he took his seat next to me, laying his head on the desk. I was tempted to ask him what was wrong, and I could hear the voice in the back of my mind telling me it was a bad idea, but I just couldn’t help myself. 

“Are you okay?” I asked without looking at him, my voice barely a whisper. 

“Why do you care?” he bit back venomously. 

“You’re a human being, and you seem upset. Why wouldn’t I care?” I was confused. Surely people were supposed to care when others were upset? Even though I’d tried to convince myself I didn’t care I hated the idea of someone being upset. Even someone I wasn’t particularly fond of. 

“You’re insane." he rolled his eyes, dropping his head back to the desk. He still hadn’t answered my question, but I figured he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push it. The rest of the class filed in one by one. 

“Why do you even put up with him?” George asked as he walked in the class. Not even bothering to wait to sit down. 

I shot him a frown, “George, that’s not very nice!” Why did everyone have to be so mean?

“Oh, come on, Annabell, we all know he treats you like crap and he gets his little goonies to go along with it.” I scoffed. That was rich coming from George. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked George but he was hardly the epitome of a perfect person. 

“Well, it doesn’t bother me, so why should it bother you?” I snapped. I was fed up of being treated like I was this breakable little thing. 

“Okay, so King Lear!” Mrs Richens interjected. 

We hadn’t got half way through the lesson before Michael had gone back to his usual annoying self. I felt a pen dig into my side. I squirmed away in discomfort. Ignoring him though and continuing making notes. 

“Does nothing get to you?" he finally whispered after ten minutes. 

“You don’t. What’s the point in letting it get to me? Are you going to stop if I do?” I asked without taking my eyes off the board. He didn’t reply. 

The end of class was drawing near and I couldn’t help but thank God. I was moments away from smacking the smik of of Michael’s face. 

 

“I hope you all understand how much work this play is. It isn’t going to be easy, and it’s going to be a massive work load. So I’ve decided to pair you up. I know there are a few people in here who are willing to work hard to get the grade and I know some of you want the grade but aren’t so willing to work for it and because of that I’m pairing you up for a project. It’ll take the rest of the term." she directed her look to me and I felt my stomach drop because I knew exactly what she was doing. “Some of you will get this done quicker than others and that’s okay. I want to see work from you every week and I was you to work together. I know your writing and I know how you work and if you think you can just pan this off on your partner you are sorely mistaken. You’re going to need to work on this together. Anywhere between three and five hours a week." she continued to rattle on, listing the particulars of the project before finally getting to our pairs. She left me till last. “Annabell, you’ll be working with Michael.” 

George shot me a pointed look across the room. It was almost an ‘I told you so’. I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to Michael. 

“So, how do you want to do this? When are you free?” I asked. I saw the look on his face but cut him off before he even said it. “I’m not doing all the work. We’re doing this together, Michael.” I sighed. I wanted him to like me. I wanted to be liked by everyone. It was possibly my biggest flaw. I liked being liked. 

He thought a moment, pulling out his phone and going to the planner. “I only have one free period with you this week." he frowned. 

“What about after school?” I wanted to groan. I didn’t want to give up my afternoons to spend with him any more than he did. 

“I have band practice every day till five. I guess I’m free after that." he shot me a skeptical look. 

“I can do that! We could do every day, every other day, whatever you prefer.” I smiled. I think this was the first time since he’d arrived in year nine that I had actually talked to him. 

“How about every other day? I don’t think I could quite cope with seeing you every day." he sneered. 

“Fine. We’ll start today though, if that’s okay? I’d prefer to start while it’s fresh in my mind.” I began to pack up my books into my bag, standing to leave before I realised, “I don’t know where you live…” 

“Can we not do it at yours?" he asked hesitantly. 

“Not really, we can if you really want. There just isn’t really anywhere to work.” I left it at that without going into much detail. 

“Fine." he mumbled as he wrote down the address, shoving the piece of paper in my hand and storming out the room. 

This was going to be fun.


	2. Two

I found Welly waiting outside the English room for me, “Why was Billie Joe in such a bad mood?” she asked, puzzled, as I rolled my eyes at her stupid nickname for him.

“You know, Billie Joe Armstrong is actually talented and attractive. Michael is neither of those things.” 

“Oh, come on! You cannot deny it, he looks more and more like him every day!” she protested as I followed her down to music where we spent our lunch times. We’d sit in the music practice rooms while Welly pretended to be doing piano practice. Mostly we just fangirled over attractive band members and talked about fanfiction. Despite her being gay she had a lot to say about band guys, which was why I’d never guessed she wasn’t straight. 

“I can and I will.” 

“So what was eating him anyway? I mean, I know he’s a grumpy fucker, but he was particularly sullen today.” 

I dropped my bag on the chair before taking a seat on the floor next to the piano, “We have to work together on a project and I said we couldn’t do it at my house.” I shrugged, pulling my lunch from my bag.

“Did you tell him why?” she asked nervously. 

“Nope.” I replied, popping the p. “Didn’t see the point. It’s not like he’d care.” 

“So you’re going over to his?" she seemed skeptical about it. 

“Yeah.” 

“How much do you know about him?” 

“Dude, he’s not going to murder me.” I laughed, she could be so dramatic.

“No, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is...well you know there are rumours…” she replied, not looking me in the eye, in fact she was doing everything she could not to.

“I could care less. They’re rumours. Let me make up my own mind.” I snapped. I hated rumours. Detested them. I’d had first hand experience of what they could do. 

 

Welly spent the rest of lunch playing All Time Low songs on the piano as I sang along completely out of tune. Welly was definitely the talented one in our friendship. I got talented enough to learn ‘Same Love’ by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis on guitar when she came out to me. It was my way of showing her I cared about her still. It was still the only song I could play and I wouldn’t even call it playing. Just strumming along, hoping I was hitting the right chords. 

I finished the day with a free period so I decided to go home. If I could get a head start on this work then maybe it would make working with him easier. It didn’t pan out the way I hoped though, because when I got home mum was already there and she decided that it was the perfect opportunity to make me do the house work. By the time four o’clock rolled around I was gagging to get out of the house. 

“I have to go! Michael is expecting me!” I protested. 

“You haven’t finished your chores!” she grumbled. 

“I’ll do them when I get home, but I have to get this done.” I groaned. I hoped that if I complained enough she’d let me go. I should have gone when she went to collect the boys from school. 

“You are the most selfish child!" she snapped. “Just go. Don’t expect the door to be unlocked when you come home though.” I didn’t. Noah would leave the window unlocked for me though, as usual. 

I fled the house, knowing if I stuck around much longer she’d change her mind and make me stay. I was nearly at his house when I realised it was only half four. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as I thought it would to get out the house. I frowned; would he mind me showing up this early? I just had to hope he wouldn’t say anything because I honestly couldn’t be bothered to lug these books around much longer. 

When I got there I could hear music coming from around the back of the houses. I followed the houses around to the garages out back. It was laid out exactly the same as my street, the joy of army housing. I followed the sound of the music and found Michael out back, in his garage with Ashton, Luke and Calum. I didn’t know they were in a band together? I recognised the song, it was Jasey Rae by All Time Low, and I couldn’t deny they were good. 

Michael was seriously talented, I watched intently as he played his guitar and sang along. He stopped mid song, turning his attention to me, and I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “What are you doing here?" he grumbled, taking the guitar from around his neck and placing it on a stand. 

“I-I left early in case I got lost.” I stuttered, averting my gaze to the ground. There was just something so cold and hard about the way he looked at me and it scared me. I wasn’t easily intimidated, but something about the way he stared at me had me on edge. 

“Whatever. You’re going to have to wait.” he growled. 

“We can leave. We were pretty much finished anyway.” Ashton offered, a smirk playing on his lips and I wasn’t sure if it was meant to mean something or if he just always had that look on his face. 

“No! It’s fine, I can wait!” I protested. I actually really liked listening to them, they were good. More importantly I didn’t want to get on Michael’s bad side any more than I already was. 

He nodded, picking his guitar back up. “We still need to work on ‘Too Late’ anyway.” 

“No-” Luke started before Calum stomped on his foot. 

“We do.” he muttered to him. 

The music started and I couldn’t help but bob along. The music was catchy and they were all incredibly talented. I guess I’d underestimated them. The song rolled to a close and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “That was so good!” I beamed. 

My face fell when I saw the look on Michael’s face. “Well, I think that is our queue to leave…” Ashton mumbled, stepping out from behind his drum set, “Good luck, Annabell." he said as the others followed him out of the garage. 

“So how do you want to do this?" he grumbled as he pulled the garage door shut, double checking he'd locked it. 

“Well, why don’t you show me to where you want to set up and then we can just spend today looking at what we have to do and how we’re going to divide it up and the timing and stuff.” I suggested, timidly. It was frustrating me how nervous he was making me, because I wasn’t a nervous person. I was loud and outgoing and stubborn. I was not timid. I was an extrovert by anyones book. 

“Is my room okay?” he asked, coughing as his voice broke slightly causing me to perk up. Did I make him nervous? Was that what just happened? Did the idea of me being alone with him in his room make him nervous? I tried desperately to hide the smirk on my face. I was being stupid, there was no way he was nervous. 

“Your room is fine!” I replied, but even I could hear the smirk in my voice and I noticed the tips of his ears begin to burn pink. For being an Australian he was awfully pale. 

I followed him through his house and up the stairs. His house although architecturally the same as mine was a lot nicer. His parents had made better use of the space and it was actually tidy. The furniture was nice and probably a lot newer than my own. There were pictures of Michael at different stages of in his life scattered throughout the room and it just felt like a home. “You have a really nice home.” I whispered as we clambered up the narrow staircase to his room. Instinctually, I went to turn left, but he turned right towards the master bedroom. 

“Thanks.” he mumbled in reply and I couldn’t help but smile, because no matter how small it was still progress. 

“You have the master bedroom?” I asked, my brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, my parents said I could have it." he shrugged. “I’d have been happy with the box room.” 

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.” I laughed breathlessly. “I have to share it with my foster sister and there isn’t room in there for one of us let alone two.” I bit my tongue. Not many people knew my siblings were actually my foster siblings. They’d all taken my parent’s names at school to make things simpler. 

“How many foster siblings do you have?” he asked, as he cleared room at his desk. It was cluttered with paper. Some of it was screwed up, the rest was littered with writing and doodles and music notes. He was writing music. So not only did he play and sing, he also wrote? I really had underestimated him. 

“I have two younger and one older, and then I have a biological older brother. He doesn’t live at home any more though.” I chewed my lip nervously. 

He didn’t say anything though, just nodded in response. I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say to that, I mean what was there to say to that? 

His walls were adorned with posters of bands. Some I recognised; All Time Low, Blink, Green Day and others I’d never heard of. “Who are Mayday Parade?” I asked.

“They’re just some band. You probably won’t like them." he shrugged and I felt slightly annoyed. How would he know? 

“No, I doubt it. I mean if they’re anything like All Time Low they probably suck.” I mocked, rolling my eyes. Michael stiffened, and looked like he wanted to say something; instead he just shook his head and went back to clearing the desk. “I mean, I’ve only seen them seven times and I swear they just get worse every time.” I shrugged, slinking down onto his unmade bed. His sheets and covers were black, but he’d clearly spilt things on them. There were dishes piling up next to his bed; some still covered in food. He couldn’t be bothered to take them out for when he had a guest? 

“You’ve seen All Time Low?” he asked, suddenly perking up. 

“Yes, you numpty. They’re my favourite band. Alex Gaskarth is my idol.” I smiled. 

“Of course.” he sighed, rolling his eyes, dropping down into the computer chair. 

“Well if you’re going to be like that…” I didn’t care if he thought I was just some annoying fangirl in love with Alex’s hair. It didn’t bother me, because his opinion didn’t matter to me. They were my favourite band and I wasn’t going to let any one belittle that. “Can we just get on with the work?” I asked, pulling my books and the sheet of paper we’d been given out of my bags. I didn’t move from the bed. Just crossed my legs and shuffled back so my back was resting against the wall. 

“Whatever." seriously what was his problem? “What do you want me to do?” he asked, slouching in the chair. 

“What do you want to do? I’m not bothered.” I was trying to reach out to him but it didn’t seem to be working. 

“Nothing." he smirked. 

“Yeah, not happening. Uh, if you do the research on the Fool for Thursday?” I suggested. “I’ll do the research on a renaissance audiences.” 

“Why do I get stuck with the Fool?” he groaned. 

“He’s the easiest to research...there’s more on the Fool’s character than there is on Lear.” I was tempted to roll my eyes again, but just before I did it I realised how many times I’d done it today. I was about to say something else when I felt a bit of paper hit my face, followed by a snicker. 

“Seriously?” I snapped. “What have I ever done to deserve your crap?”

The smile on his face vanished instantly, “Chill out, Bell, it’s just a joke.” I cringed. Not because I didn’t like the nickname, but because I didn’t like the sound of it coming from his mouth. 

“Don’t call me that. It’s not funny though! There’s no punchline. Jokes have punchlines. They’re also supposed to be funny to people other than the ones telling them.” I clasped my hand over my mouth, suddenly feeling awful. “Michael, I am so sorry!” I babbled. Constantly apologising. I was so rude. 

“You’re mental aren’t you? Like certifiably crazy?” he asked, eyebrow cocked. He’d moved the chair back a few inches, trying to create as much space as possible between us. 

“Probably.” I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” There was an awkward silence for a moment. 

“You apologise for stupid shit.” 

“Okay.”

“Are we done?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, bye." he didn’t stand to walk me to the door and I took that as a ‘walk yourself out’. So I did.

I pulled out my phone to text Welly. It wasn’t even half five and we had done no where near as much as I would have liked. Please please shoot me?xx

 

What have you done? 

She replied almost instantly. 

I’ll be there in about 30 seconds.

The good thing about Michael living where he did was that it was right around the corner from Welly, and about ten seconds later she came bounding down the street towards me in nothing but shorts and a tank top. 

“What are you wearing? It’s freezing!” I laughed as she pulled me into a hug. 

“Clothes...barely. It’s just in case Heather decided to stop over." she winked, causing me to splutter and double over in laughter. 

“Would you stop calling our English teacher by her first name, and more importantly, stop pretending to be in a relationship with her. She is happily married, and straight!” I wondered how Welly would manage without me, because there have been several occasions when she’s got herself into more trouble than she could deal with.

“She just thinks she’s straight. She just hasn’t realised she’s in love with me yet." she huffed matter-of-factly. 

“I’m doubting she ever will.” 

“Enough about me and my love life. What about you and yours? How’s Michael?” 

“How does that even translate? What does Michael have to do with my love life?” 

“Never mind. Why do I need to shoot you?” 

I sighed, burying my head in my hands, “I’m just such as idiot! I snapped at him and told him he was a jerk and he wasn’t funny.” 

“He is those things...I don’t see your issue? Did he throw a hissy fit? Did he cry?” 

I hesitated, “Well, no, but what if he had? How bad would I have felt?” 

“What did he do then to make you feel so bad?” she asked, evidently confused. 

I followed her through the door and up the stairs towards her bedroom, “He said I apologised for stupid things and then asked me if I was certifiably crazy.” I laughed.

“So, you know he’s an arse, he clearly knows he’s an arse, so why on earth did you apologise and why do you still feel bad?” 

No one ever got it when I explained it to them and I doubted that Welly would either. “I’m nice to everyone because you don’t know what they’re going through. I don’t know that Michael isn’t depressed or being abused at home and maybe his only outlet is throwing things at the back of my head, or what if I snap at him and it’s the final straw for him and he kills himself. I can’t explain it, but I just know that sometimes people need outlets and people who are understanding and that’s what I want to be for him.” 

“He’s right. You are crazy." she scoffed. 

“Maybe,” I sighed, “he knew I had foster siblings.” 

Welly shot me a quizzical look, “It’s hardly a secret.” 

“No, but I didn’t think he paid any attention.” I admitted sheepishly. Welly rolled her eyes, and pulled out last weeks issue of Kerrang! “Why’d you roll your eyes?” I asked subconsciously.

She paused for a moment, flicking the magazine shut, “I just think you underestimate him sometimes. I think there is more to him than he lets you see. That’s all.” 

I shrugged. It still felt off that he knew. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t like him knowing things about me. I sat with Welly for another hour as she painted her nails and complained about the fact there were not decent looking lesbians in the area. I listened to her drone on, rolling my eyes when she wasn’t looking. I loved her really, but she could complain for England. 

“Hey, before you go!” she called as I stood to leave, “There is this band that’s playing in The Talbot on Friday...5 weeks of summer, or something like that. I think we should go see them! I need a night out and you know Ted will be there for you to drool over." she smirked as the blush crept up my face. 

Ted was the bartender at the pub next door to my house and every time I was drunk I managed to convince myself I was in love with him. Not that he ever looked twice at me, no. He was gorgeous though; one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. He looked scarily like Matt Flyzik, but with sharper features and a stronger jaw line, and stubble. Lots of stubble. It wasn’t that I had any feelings for him, just that he was insanely attractive. 

“I’ll come,” I sighed, “but not for Ted! Do you know what kind of music this band play?” I asked, hopeful that it wouldn’t be some pop cover band. 

“No idea. Probably shit, but if we get drunk enough before hand like last time it’ll be fun!” she was right. It was a lot of fun last time, until we ran into our music teacher and had to pretend to be sober because Welly was still 17. Though, if you looked at us you’d have believed she was the older one. She never got ID’d no matter where she went, she was covered in tattoos and looked to be in her early twenties at least. I still looked about 15 years old. 

“Okay I’ll come.” I agreed before saying goodbye and heading home. I knew I’d be in trouble when I got there. I’d missed dinner and the door would be locked. 

I was right, when I got home my front door was locked, but Noah’s bedroom window was open. I threw my bad through and clambered in, trying not to make too much noise. Luckily his window was on the ground floor, so I didn’t have to climb up onto the porch roof.

“Hey, you okay?” he mumbled, not looking up from his comic. 

“I’ve been better.” I admitted, not sticking around to talk. 

“Mum’s still in the living room, I wouldn’t go out there just yet.” he warned.

“I’ll take my chances.” I shrugged. I had stuff that still needed doing. We’d done less work than I had originally hoped which meant I had to catch up tonight. 

“How did you get in?” her voice echoed down the corridor and I flinched. 

“There was a window open.” I admitted. I wasn’t going to get Noah in trouble, and she wouldn’t think to look in Noah’s room anyway, she thought she had all the keys to his bedroom window. 

“I locked the door for a reason.” she hissed and I rolled my eyes.

“I climbed in through the window because I didn’t like that reason.” I wasn’t normally like this with my mum, but today was just one of those days. My mother and I had a very special relationship. The kind where the second I’ve finished school, I’m never coming back again. I wasn’t sure you could call her abusive, she never really hit any of us, but she’d do things like lock the food away, or lock me out the house over night if she didn’t like something I’d done. The kids often went to bed without food, and the woman sure knew how to shout and make you feel like shit, but at the same time she’d never hit any of us. 

“You’re an ungrateful little bitch.” she snapped.

“You’re right, I am. I’m not grateful for you at all.” I snapped, storming up to my room and snapping the lock shut. She was always like this when my dad was away, which was more often than not. 

I collapsed on my bed, and I was about to start crying when I felt my phone vibrating in my back pocket. 

“Hello?” I choked back the tears. 

“Uh, hey? Uh, it’s Mikey, you left your notebook here.” he mumbled. 

“Oh, um, can I get it from you tomorrow?” I asked, if he wanted me to go and get it now he had another thing coming. If I left this house now there was no way I was getting back in. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I just thought I’d let you know, so you didn’t spend ages searching for it.” he muttered, and I couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on my face. He’d done something kind and thoughtful for me. I knew there was goodness in him. 

“Thank you, Michael.” 

“It’s whatever.” he grumbled, hanging up the phone without saying good bye. I let the smile on my face grow. He’d done something genuinely nice, and it had embarrassed him. 

“What’s with the grin?” Livvy asked from her bed. I hadn’t even seen her there. I thought she was in the boys room.

“Nothing.” I smirked. No one else would understand.

“Was it a boy?” she asked, sitting bolt upright at the idea. Livvy was more interested in my love life than I was, that was for sure. 

“It was Michael Clifford.” I admitted, “He just phoned to say I’d left my notebook at his.” 

“Michael Clifford? As in that prick who makes your life a living hell?” she scoffed, suddenly not so interested.

“He’s not a prick! He didn’t have to phone to tell me, but he didn’t want me to worry and look for it.” It was a kind gesture, and I wasn’t going to let her belittle it. 

“One right does not make up for the hundreds of wrongs.” 

“It’s a start though, and everyone has to start somewhere.” I was willing to give him a chance, and that was what really mattered.

“When you get hurt, don’t come crying to me okay?” she laughed bitterly, standing to leave the room. “You deserve better Anna, just remember that.” she sighed, shutting the door behind her. 

I wondered why people couldn’t just see the best in others. I mean, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that everyone was good, but everyone had good in them, and there was something about Michael that told me there was more good in him than bad. I just needed to prove it.


End file.
